Machine Guns and Tap Shoes
by Chibi Lurrel
Summary: UPDATED JULY 1ST 2001! Now with 20 more dancing Duo! And 15 more plot development. Heero's an obsessive stalker...maybe. Sound like fun? You bet it does! I dunno, it's a little strange.. Oh, yeah, a little shounen ai is being set up...34, of course
1. Beginning

Hi dee ho loyal readership and newcomers (I'm just so damn cocky, aren't I?). Well, English is a boring boring class, and this was spawned from watching a 20's mob flick called _The Cotton Club._ IT's really great, really funny movie, and I recommend it! *two thumbs up* Right. So, even though I know next to nothing about the subject matter, I was bored, and I really like the first part of this fic. Although, I need reviews to go on, so review if you'd like me to continue. ^_^ Or flame me, whatever, although if I get a bunch of stuff wrong, history-wise, please tell me. I'd like to correct myself. So, now one with the fic! ^_^ 

P.S. This is an Alternate Universe, if ya couldn't tell. I haven't decided if it'll be 1+2 yet, but most probably 3+4… as always. I can't resist. 

Machine Guns and Tap Shoes

By Chibi Lurrel

"Hey! Hey, Yuy! The boss has a new job fer you." The man's New York drawl blurred his words. Heero looked up. "What is it?" "You gotta go to that new club around the bend, the one which everyone's been talking about. Look at what sort of people hang there, ya know? Recon-mission. Bring that trumpet player along, too, the boss says." "Reconnaissance." Heero murmured. "What?" asked the brash messenger. "Reconnaissance." "Yeah, that's what I said. Recon." Nervous, the man left. "It's a nice word, rolls off the tongue," he murmured to the air.

Heero poked his head into the hotel room next to his and stared at the young blonde who sat on the bed. He held a trumpet, and was fingering the keys without playing, making a soft metallic 'clack, clack' noise. "Hi there, Heero." "Tonight I'm taking you to a club." Quatre's melancholy blue eyes widened. "Huh? Heero, what're you talking about?" "Reconnaissance mission. Gotta keep an eye out for those crime lords and all that stuff and nonsense." His voice was devoid of any accent, which Quatre found odd, since he had lived in New York City all his life. "Where is this club?" "Real close to here. Just down the street, actually." He left, and Quatre shook his head. "Strange man," he said to himself as he brought the trumpet to his lips and began to play.

Trowa walked alone down the sidewalk as dusk settled in over the city, passing a nameless hotel on his way to the club where we worked. He paused, cocking his head to one side as mournful music notes began to pour out of an open window like a giant silk waterfall. He sighed and paused on his way to work, letting the notes embrace him fully. He gazed up at the open window as he sensed the end of the song. He squinted, trying to view the occupant of the room, and saw the silver glint of a battered trumpet, and a pair of large, melancholy blue eyes that seemed blind to the world. The curtains fluttered shut as the song ended. Trowa continued his walk.

***

Heero strolled into the club, past the bouncer with nothing so much as a tip of his hat and a wave of his hand. Heero's face was so well known around the city that the bouncer hadn't even bothered to check his list. But when he laid a hand on Quatre's should to stop him, Heero whirled around and stated, "The boy is with me. You should have realized." He continued walking as the bouncer stuttered an apology. Quatre sighed and hurried after him.

Heero quietly took a seat at a table on looking the stage. Quatre settled in beside him, his trumpet case banging against his knees. "Why do you bring that everywhere you go?" Quatre shrugged nonchalantly. "Old habit." "So why are we here, again? Is there some show you wanted to see? 'Cause knowing you, you'd normally just pop in here, do a quick sweep, and then leave. So what's the deal?" Heero frowned. "Hn." Quatre sighed and gave up. Heero was like a rock when it came to conversation skills. He looked around, scanning the room for any new and unfamiliar faces. "Hey, Heero, who's that guy?" Quatre tilted his head in the direction of the wizened old Chinese crime lord, and the young man standing behind her. "Hmm? The boy? His name is Chaing Wufei. He's new, but no threat. Not yet." Quatre swallowed nervously at this. "Ah. Anyone else new?" Heero's head pivoted, like a mechanical robot's would. "Nope." He settled back into the plush seats with a small sigh. Quatre goggled. "Then we're staying?" His partner nodded. "Best to wait the whole evening, see if anyone else shows up." Heero was never like this, especially for re-con missions…but Quatre wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He missed the thrill of performing in front of the crowd, making them respond to the music. He loved his old job as a stage performer, but financial troubles had forced him to deal with the devil, relatively speaking. He had been forced to take up a job with a local crime boss, who, unfortunately, had taken a liking to him. Quatre had been stuck, unable to quit under fear of death, or worse. 

Quatre decided to take a cue from Heero, and relax and enjoy the show. But when the first act came on stage, he couldn't help but gasp. The piano player looked so…so… he realized he had no words, but the crisp white performance suit suited the man sitting near the baby grand perfectly. He risked a sidelong glance at Heero, who seemed normal. But Quatre knew better. He focused his attention on the tap dancer on the stage, and figured out why.

Heero didn't know why he was drawn to the club in the first place, and he didn't know why he kept coming back. But he did know that he couldn't stop himself. Because he had tried. His steely blue gaze lay transfixed on the boy dancing in front of him, looking like the fates themselves had personified Heero's every whim and fancy in him. The dancer was, in a word, beautiful, Heero mused to himself. And so, he returned every other night to watch the boy perform. Because it seemed as though he was dancing just for him.

The boy cracked a lopsided grin and spun a whiz on the tap shoes. He had his audience captivated, but that wasn't nearly as large an accomplishment as captivating Heero was. This he knew from the word on the street, as well as personal expirience. As he twirled and danced, his long chestnut braid swung around him. Trowa smiled at him from behind his bang and the piano, and the pace picked up. Shuffle, shuffle, hop, twirl, jump, shuffle. It was a tightly choreographed dance if there ever was one. The audience, of course, was laughing and clapping. But that was the expected result. He would be insulted if they had done anything other than that. He finally ended his routine with a little shuffle and a wave of his arms, and slid down to one knee. The audience shrieked with delight as he and Trowa took their bows. "He's here again." Whispered the dancer to the musician. "I know." Trowa whispered back. "Hn." They both smiled and waved then walked back stage to the dressing rooms. 

In the back, Duo quickly stripped of his white performance suit into his usual black riding pants and black shirt with rolled up sleeves. He had long since given up the clergyman's collar, it had attracted too much attention that he simply didn't need. Not that he wasn't a hog for attention. In fact, quite the contrary. That was why he had decided to become a stage performer in the first place. He sighed and began stretching his legs out. It had been, after all, and excruciating work out. Just like every night. Trowa walked up to him, wearing his usual grim suit of a dull brownish gray, though even Duo had to admit it suited him. But most things did. Duo also had to admit that Trowa was an extremly handsome man. "So, what do you think about it, Trowa? He's been here almost every other night. Watching m…watching us, then leaving. Heero Yuy. You think it's something bad, maybe something that has to do with his line of work?" Duo's eyes were wide. Trowa smiled a faint little smile, and shook his head. "I doubt it. More like he's obbsessed. Do you know who the little blonde he brought with him was? I've never seen him around this place before." Duo shook his head, his loose bangs falling into his eyes. "Nope. Never seen him around before." He grinned up at his somber partner. "Why?" Trowa shrugged. "I don't know. But I'd like to meet him."

End Part I

Sooo, whatcha think? Tell me! ^_^ More to come, if you're goooood little readers and review! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *coughs* Right.


	2. Part Two!

Heero snapped his fingers, and instantly there was a waiter. "Yes, sir?" "Bring us some drinks. A scotch on the rocks for me." Quatre blinked and said softly, "Rum and Coke." The waiter nodded and scurried off, only to be replaced a few moments later by a tall woman. "Heero Yuy!" 

The man in question blinked as she stepped closer, her face coming into focus. Not far behind her, a shorter young woman with bobbed bluish hair stood. "Mind if I sit down?" she asked as she grabbed a chair from a near by table. "Heero. How **have** you been lately, anyhow?" the woman's blonde bob bounced up and down as she talked. Quatre could do little but stare out right at her. She had some nerve! But instead of simply grunting at her, he actually responded! "Ms. Darlian. I'm doing quite well. And might I inquire as to how you are doing this evening?" Curiouser and curiouser. She laughed, and Quatre winced. She had the sort of laugh that was high pitched and nasal, the sort of laugh that reminded Quatre of his mother's friends when they came over to visit, squealing. "Ah, I'm doing just fine. But you never struck me as one to frequent the clubs! Do tell me what you're doing here…" 

He was quite shocked. Sure, Heero was only giving minimalist answers, but the fact remained that he was giving this woman answers at all! She kept smiling and laughing, and it seemed to him she would never stop. The loud music of the club and noise of the patrons all seemed to fade to black compared to this 'Ms. Darlian's' conversation. Quatre felt as though he would scream if it continued much longer. He wasn't even sure why she irked him so much. She just…grated on his nerves. So he turned his attention to the nervous looking young woman behind her. "So, what's a nice girl like you doing with a woman like that?" The blonde woman laughed. "Heero Yuy, I'm afraid I have to go! But if you frequent this bar as much as you say, I'll be sure to see you around!" "Good bye, Ms. Relena Darlian." And so she left. Quatre was confused. But not stupid. He kept his mouth shut.

***

Duo ran down the street, his braid trailing behind him like a kite's tail. "Can't catch me, Trowa!" he laughed, squeezing his way through two old women on the street, giggling. "I won't **HAVE** to catch you if you just take back what you **SAID**!" Trowa yelled at Duo's back, leaping over a fire hydrant.

The two old women looked at each other and clicked their tongues. "Boys will be boys, you know." Said one. "I have my doubt about the long haired one. Perhaps boys will be girls." They laughed the laugh of the knowledgeable. 

As they neared the apartment complex where they shared a living space, Trowa caught up with him. Duo squealed as he fell onto the concrete under Trowa. "Get off meeee!" he whined. "Not till you take it back!" Trowa demanded. "FINE! Fine, I take it back! You're not interested in that little blonde person at ALL! Uncle, uncle!" Trowa smiled and rolled off his friend and roommate. "Good. Cause I'm not like you." Duo scowled from the concrete. 

***

He stepped into the club, a black trench coat covering his body. It was a week after he had brought Quatre to the club, and in that week he had finally figured out what kept drawing him to the club, to the dance. A part of him had been repulsed by his fascination with the longhaired dancer. But he knew it wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. And not being a very emotional man, Heero knew exactly what it was he wanted and how to get it. Now.

As he sat down in a table near the back, he heard a familiar voice call his name. "Heero? Mind if I sit down?" she asked as she leisurely took a seat near him. "Ms. Darlian." he said, nodding in greeting. Ah, Relena. Now here was a figure that intrigued him greatly. He had known her for quite some time; they had even been business associates. She was a cold, calculating woman, but she did have a sense of humor. She currently ran her aging father's industry, and would soon take it over. "Good to know you haven't forgotten me!" She laughed, her sandy brown bob bouncing up and down, catching the light. "Her and I…would make powerful partners." He mused to himself. "So, why **is** it that you're here so often, Heero?" He pointed to the stage below, where the lithe, longhaired boy danced. "Extraordinary, isn't he?" he asked, to which Relena laughed. "I never thought of you as much for the arts, Heero!" "Well, he **is** a great dancer." She smiled at him beatifically. "Hmph. You with such and eye for art and beauty. Tell you what? There's an Impressionists exhibit going on at the museum. Why don't I take you out to see it….oooh, say, next Friday?" Friday. It would only take a day, perhaps two, to get what he wanted from the little dancer. "I'd like that. I'd like that very much." And it was only Tuesday.

***

Heero stood outside the exit door, the sky above him looking as though it was about to weep. Every Tuesday, the little dancer-boy left at the same time, without his friend. The light above the door started flickering, barely touching Heero. 

Suddenly the door swung open with a bang, yellow light spraying into the alleyway like a sun. "Bye, Trowa! See ya!" The boy sauntered into the chilly night wearing only a flimsy black dress shirt and black slacks.He briefly regretted lending his coat to a showgirl dancer, but she was wearing something much more flimsy and cold than he was. He began his walk home, and Heero began to put his plan in action. 

He stepped up silently behind the boy, who he now realized to be several inches shorter than he. "Hello there." He said softly, to which the dancer jumped in surprise. "Who're you?!" Suddenly his graceful body relaxed. "It's you. The man who comes to see me dance almost every night. So tell me, are you the **real** Heero Yuy?" He almost smiled. "Yes. And might I inquire your name?" The boy's eyes widened, glittering in the darkness. "You mean to tell me that you come out and see me dance, but you don't even know my **name**? It's Duo. Duo Maxwell." Heero tilted his head to one side, admiring Duo's form as he stood shivering on the side walk. "Would you like my coat?" Duo blinked as Heero began to take it off. "No, no! Really, that's okay! It's not that far to my house anyway …I'll be seeing ya!" Duo backed away nervously, looking like he was about to sprint down the street. Coming face to face with the man who had been haunting his dreams since the first day he watched his show made his nervous and scared. Heero caught his wrist and drew him close. "No. I wouldn't want you get sick you know…" he let his voice drop to a husky whisper. Duo's indigo eyes got large as Heero jerked his arm and put his other hand under the dancer's chin. He looked deep into the indigo depths of his treasure's eyes. He knew how this would work. He knew exactly how to do this to get exactly what he wanted. "You look pale already…maybe you should come to my place and I could warm you up…" He gripped his wrist tighter. "…Nnn…No." It was barely an audible whisper. Heero was surprised. Resistence was not something he was used to.

"NO! Lemme go!" Duo began to squirm in his grip. Suddenly, Heero found himself laying on his back. The boy had managed to knock him over. Good thing he still had a firm hold on his wrist. Duo toppled over onto Heero, squirming and try to get free. Heero snaked his arm around the boy's waist and pinned him to his chest. "This better?" Duo grimaced and punched him in the solar plexus, catching Heero unaware. He let his grasp slip, which was all Duo needed. He jumped up, and before running away he turned to stare at Heero. "I'm not your whore. I'm nobody's whore!" And then he disappeared into the night. Heero blinked, than stood up and dusted himself off. This was going to take longer than he thought.

***

The apartment was dark by the time Trowa stepped inside, and silent. As he quietly hung his coat up, he barely made out a choked whisper and a sob. "I'm not…I'm not yours…"

***

To Be Continued, I suppose.

AN: Feedback is good and makes me all warm and special inside. ^_^ 


	3. Decisions

Duo ran up the steps, panting

Sorry for the long delay in this chapter…the past month has been the month before the school year ends when the teachers all plot how to stress us out the most. O_o yeesh. Damn projects. But next week I should have some slack on homework cause our scheduals are all screwy. Only two classes a day, not including study hall hell. XP Silly TAAS. I hate Texas. But at least it's a break. So read, dammit! ^_^

Machine Guns and Tapshoes: Decisions 

**By Chibi Lurrel**

Duo ran up the steps, panting. He wasn't going to be able to keep this up much longer, he could tell. Even Trowa had a night off, but Duo worked full seven hours a week, multiple shows a night. Except one night. He was tired. Not to mention lonely, but… Maybe he could be lonely a little longer. Having Heero Yuy grab your wrist and practically **ask** for you to come with him and fuck was rather unsettling. He was used to advances, every so often someone got a bit to close and Duo had to put them in their place. But this was **Heero** **Yuy**, not some punk who was a little too friendly with his hands. He knew he'd be dead in a second if he refused again. But what troubled him most was that part of him wanted to just say yes and go to the man's house, a man who he knew nothing about except that he was a killer by profession. And he was gorgeous. But Heero Yuy was also a man very accustomed to getting what he wanted, Duo assumed. He didn't know what to do. And this was one of the few things he couldn't talk to Trowa about. Trowa was his best friend, no matter how different they seemed to others, Duo was very loyal to his friend. But Trowa's words on the day that they had chased each other down the street had hurt. Trowa was just confused, Duo tried to tell himself, but he couldn't help but doubt. What if Trowa really hated who he was, and was only pretending to be his friend. Duo shook his head at his doubtful thoughts as he slipped the crisp tuxedo shirt over his head. If he kept having thoughts like these, he thought, he was probably going insane. "DUO!" the manager yelled from near the stage entrance. "Get yer queer ass down here NOW!" Duo winced and hurriedly buttoned up his jacket as he sped out of the dressing room. "Right here, boss!" he managed to say the words with a smile. The man's eyes narrowed as he snorted. 

Dancing helped. He felt as though the tensions of his previous thoughts simply melted out of the bottoms of his tap shoes. Of course, this was only his first dance of the night, and by the third all he wanted to do was go home. But the first dance was magic. He spun and tapped his shoes faster, the audience laughing at his antics. He was a damn good tap dancer, he hade to admit. But he knew the only reason he had been hired was because the club didn't want any more black performers than they had to have. The club thought they made the customers nervous. He was a queer, but at least he was a white queer, and at least being queer didn't show through a white tuxedo as you danced. The song slowed to a stop and he flashed the audience his biggest smile of appreciation. They clapped, never knowing. Not knowing anything about him except he was a boy with tap shoes. Maybe that's all he was, all that mattered. He shook his head as he walked off stage. Surely that couldn't be all. But that was all that Heero knew…how **had** Heero known?

Duo ran into Trowa with a little "Ompf!" Trowa laughed softly. "You should stop having such deep thoughts during a performance. The audience can't tell, but I can. What's troubling you?" Duo leaned against his taller friend and sighed. "I don't know. Something must be wrong with me, I guess. After all, you don't just say no to gorgeous men in the street. Especially if they have guns." Trowa's dull green eyes narrowed. "What?" Duo shook his head again. "Nothing. Nevermind. You wouldn't understand. Couldn't understand. I'm going out for a cigarette." Trowa stepped forward, to intervene, but was pushed away. 

***

Heero waited outside. He wasn't, by nature, a patient man. But if something he wanted required him to wait, than he would wait. Apparently Duo needed more waiting than he expected. He admitted to himself that being rejected only served to pique his interest in the boy. How could he possibly turn him, the illustrious Heero Yuy, down? And once more, how had the boy managed to knock him over in the first place. Had it been anyone else, he was sure they would have been shot. Why wasn't he angry with the boy? He didn't understand. That's why he was outside.

Duo shoved open the door, walking outside quickly and angrily. "Hello, Duo Maxwell." Heero had a nice voice, Duo concluded. It was quiet and slightly nasal, but still nice. "It's you again. Well, fuck off, man, I don't need to deal with you today." He hoped that whatever it was that drew Heero to him was enough to keep the man from shooting him that very instant. "Hn. Not very sociable today, huh? I'm sorry." He slid closer to the boy, who was now taking a slow drag on his cigarette. "Not a quick learner, are you Heero Yuy? I said no. And I mean no. I'm not some cheap fuck you can get off the street. I have some sort of ethics, you know. So get away, man, and find yourself some prostitute if that's all you're interested in." Heero frowned slightly. "You talk big, boy. But how do you know you won't like it. I'm prepared to offer quite a bit of cash, if that's what it takes to get you with me." "Don't call me boy. I won't enjoy because I'm not a whore. I don't play that game, Mr. Heero Yuy. Not now, not ever again!" Heero's frowned deepened. "I'm not a man used to rejection. We'll see." And then he was gone. Duo blinked and finished his cigarette. As he walked inside, he couldn't stop himself from shaking.

Trowa was waiting for him. "Who was that? I could hear you talking to someone outside the door." "None of your business, man. Like I said, you wouldn't understand. How **could** you understand, Trowa?" 'Was it him? Was it that Yuy man?" Duo shook his head violently. "It's none of your fucking business Trowa. It's not something you should have to deal with, too." He walked off to sit by himself somewhere backstage. Trowa frowned, his brow wrinkling. What was going on with his friend? One of the dancing girls walked up. "Do you know what's wrong with Duo?" Her expertly painted lips were pulled in a pout. "He doesn't seem like his usual self today." She had been working there at least as long as they had been, and her heavy New York drawl was filled with worry. Her name was Cheryl, and though she wasn't the brightest woman in the world the other dancers looked to her for support, as a sort of a mother. "I don't know, Cheryl. He won't talk to me." She nodded knowingly. "Man troubles, then. Maybe I can help." Trowa shrugged and she walked off to find the boy. 

"Duo? Duo, honey, what's wrong?" Duo managed to find a smile for her. "Nothing that you should worry about, Cheryl." He liked the older woman a lot, because she was always willing to help the other performers. And she always laughed at his jokes. "C'mon, you can tell me." He sighed. "I dunno. See, there's this guy…" She laughed and sat down beside him. "I thought so. What's up?" "Well, I don't know him very well, but he seems very…interested in me. I don't know the first thing about him! And he doesn't know me at all, except on stage. I don't know…it's just unsettling." Cheryl nodded sagely. "Why not take a chance, hun? After all, what can it hurt?" He smiled as she walked off. _If only you know the half of it…_

***

Trowa walked outside and held the door for his friend. "Man, I'm exhausted. My feet are sore!" Trowa nodded. "Yah." "You know, I've been thinking about cutting back on work, you know. I don't think it's good for my health." Trowa frowned for a moment. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Duo. We're behind in this month's rent again. And not to mention the light gas and water bills! We could use the money, Duo. A lot." Duo cringed as he remembered the words from earlier that evening_. I'm willing to pay you're a lot of money for it, if that's what it takes._ "I'll try, Trowa, but I don't know if I can keep it up. I mean, they don't even pay me proper wages cause I'm…" "Yah. I know, and it isn't fair. But it's all we've got, Duo. Keep it up." Duo couldn't help but think to himself, _at least you get a day off_. Nut that wasn't really fair. Trowa earned more than he did, and paid more of the bills. And all he had to do was sit around and play the piano! 

Inside the apartment, Duo tore off his shoes and collapsed on the bed. "Oi, my feet **hurt**! Way more than normal!" Trowa replied from inside the kitchen. "It's stress. You should relax more." He frowned as he read the note in his hand. It had been taped to the door when they got home. He was glad Duo hadn't seen it. If they didn't pay their rent in less than a month, they'd be evicted. They were barely scrapping by as it was, and he had just finished paying off the bills. Duo didn't need to worry; he was working enough as it was. He'd just take an extra shift, that was all. It'd be all right. "You hungry, Duo?"

"Nah. I'm too sleepy. Night!" In reality, Duo was starving. But he knew he had to keep his appetite down until they got the money to pay of the bills. To pay off everything. He curled up to go to sleep. _I'm willing to pay you're a lot of money for it, if that's what it takes…_

***

Heero was not a patient man. And the boy's resistance made him angry. He didn't understand it, and it scared him. But it intrigued him, as well. He wanted that boy. More so now than even at the beginning of his growing obsession. And he was going to get him, through any means necessary. He closed the suitcase of neatly stacked bills. If this didn't work, well, he was an assassin by trade. He could always use force to get what he wanted. It wouldn't be the first time. 

***

It was only once, but it helped get him off the street into an apartment. It was only once, but it made him feel like a part of him had died. It was only once, it was months before he could bear to wear the cross that had been his constant companion since…since. It was only once. Just once. He could do it again, if he had to. If he needed to do it again, he could do it again. It was just once, just twice wouldn't hurt that much. Just twice. He could live with just twice.

To Be Continued… 

No, this **won't** turn into Duo-as-prostitute fic, you can be assured of that. Be on the lookout for another chapter of this, and the beginning of a brand new fic. Hopefully. If all goes well. If your lucky…gads, I hate standardized testing, too. Blec. Now, give me reviews. Give them to me now! E-mail me with praise. Something. Yah.


	4. bigass trowa flashback

Machine Guns and Tap Shoes: 4

I know I write excruciatingly slow, but there's been a lot of stuff going on in my life. If you really care, go to my [http://www.livejournal.com/~chibi_lurrel/][1] Yah. But I'm sorry that this took so long to get written. Really. But I did write that 3+4 that Pure Evilness asked for, and I'm starting a new fic. (bad me, bad me.) Yah. Oh well. I'd really like reviews, cause they make me feel good about myself. I know that sounds really horrible and egotistical, but I've been in a really weird funk (yep, that's supposed to be an n.) lately. I'll love you if you review. Hell, might even let you bear my children. ^_^

Machine Guns and Tap Shoes: 4

By Chibi Lurrel 

A short, blonde young man stepped into the dressing room through the back (black?) door. Though he was obviously white, he looked as though he were lost and alone. It almost made Trowa want to laugh at him, if he didn't look so scared. "Hey." He said, the word like an offering. The blonde looked up with a snap, clutching his instrument case like a lifeline. "Uh, uh, hi. I, uh, I'm supposed to perform today. Like, uh, a one time thing…" Trowa smirked and nodded. "Mmmhmm. What's your name?" "Uh. Quatre. Quatre Winner." He nodded nervously. The kid looked familiar to him, some how. "What's yours?" Quatre asked. "Barton. Trowa Barton." He held out his hand and the shorter one shook it. "You play trumpet?" he asked, cocking his head to side and gesturing at the black leather case at his side. 

"Uh, yah. Yah. I…I really like this club, you know? Yah. I especially like your act, the one wear you play piano and that guy dances, right? Heero…you know who he is, right? Probably. Well, anyway he comes here a lot, and sometimes I can get him to take me. I've always wanted to play professionally, you know? I'm…I'm probably boring you, or scaring you, huh? I'll be quiet now." Words fell out of Quatre's mouth uselessly as he became more and more nervous and uncomfortable with his surroundings. He followed the taller man around the back stage and dressing rooms. Trowa had to fight back the urge to smile. "Well, if you're really good, then you'll be invited back here. And, I'll bet you are, otherwise you wouldn't be here in the first place. So, the first thing you need to learn is to go through the main door. You're white, and you need to act like it around here. Unless," he paused to point at the skinny pale youth giggling with a few feather-clad dancers, "you're Duo." He smirked again. Quatre raised an eyebrow questioningly at the other man, but didn't say anything. "So anyway, when do you perform?" Quatre shrugged a little. "I, uh, don't know. I've never really done anything like this, well, uh, not in this sort of club. Not a place this decadent. You know, only in smoky little jazz clubs. Or maybe you don't." He let out a small little laugh and shook his head. 

Trowa shook his head in return. "Yah, actually. I do know. I used to play piano in those little joints. It was fun. In fact, that's how I met Duo over there." He frowned, slightly. "But this gig pays better, if you know what I mean." Quatre giggled nervously again. "Yeah. I'd never been to a great place like this, though, until I met up with Heero." There was an awkward silence as they paused in their steps. Trowa tilted his head to the side again and smirked at the shorter boy. "Well, the schedule reads you playing right after us. Do you need any accompaniment? Because, that would be easy to arrange." "Uh, uh, yah. Yah. Probably do." 

Duo leapt in front of the two awkwardly quiet boys. "Hey hey Trowa! Who's you're friend, uh?" Quatre's green-blue eyes widened visibly. "Eep." Duo's eyes narrowed. "Eh, I've seen you around here. A lot, actually. With that Heero kid."Duo frowned deeply and smoothed the bangs from his forehead. "What's your name?" he asked, almost angrily. "Uh. Quatre." Duo snorted. "Performing tonight, kid?" The blonde nodded. "Mmm." And then he left their sight. Trowa's brow wrinkled worriedly. Duo was acting oddly. But it wasn't his concern. Not anymore. "You should probably get dressed and things, Quatre. We're performing in an hour and a half, and you're not even dressed."

***

_Trowa stepped into a smoky hole in the wall bar. Rickety clarinet music poured out of the doorway, which was lit by small candles and dim light bulbs. An empty piano sat abandoned next to a rag tag group of jazz musicians. They band almost fit the place, with melancholy poet-types and angry criminals. He stepped up to the piano and took a seat at the dusty stool, cracked his knuckles and began to play. His notes differed greatly from those played by the band next to him, the mysterious band filled with strangers he didn't know. They quickly caught up with him, the clarinet jerking happily to quick beats meant for dancing. As he looked around the room, he noticed him. A boy-child with cloud eyes was sitting at a table alone. He had a long braid and round eyes. And he looked sad, clashing with the notes pouring from Trowa's fingers. Trowa liked his hands to dance over the piano as if he were shedding skin. People, for what looked like the first time in years, stood up to dance. The clarinet player next to him, during a pause in his music, looked up at Trowa. "We haven't played this sort of music in months!" "Hn. Why not? This is a dance club, isn't it?" The man shrugged. "Well, that's what it says on the sign, I guess. It's never really been a dance club." "What sorta club is it?" The clarinet player shrugged again and motioned toward the lonely longhaired boy in the corner. "It's mainly a club for people like him. But he's not a regular." The last sentence was added on almost as an afterthought, as if to reassure him that the people of the club did not normally run about whoring under-age men. _

_The longhaired brunette looked forlornly at the clumps of dancing people and held his heart shaped face in his hands. He was staring at the band, with an intense hate filled gaze. Trowa shrugged it off, and continued playing the out of tune piano. The club patrons danced and laughed and drank as if they had never done it before. All except for the longhaired boy. After what seemed like forever, but was only 45 minutes, Trowa decided to take a break. "I'm gonna take five." He said to the clarinetist, who barely registered him and kept on playing cheerily. Trowa took a few cautious steps towards the lonely table, and the boy's head snapped up. He gave him an icy stare. "What do you want?" Trowa's green eyes widened visibly at the boy's cold manner. "Nothing. Nothing. I just wanted to talk. May I sit down?" The boy shrugged. "If you really want." Trowa did so. "You look like you're waiting for someone. Now, I can't believe a chickie would stand up a guy like you, so…" He was cut off by a cold stare. "I don't normally hang out in places like this." The boy said. "I only came here once, last week. Cause I'm out on the streets again, lost my job. The club I danced at went under. Tanked, you know? I really need the money." Trowa raised an eyebrow. It was what he expected, but it was still shocking. _

_"Yah, well I figured I'd take whatever money I could get in one night and that was it, right? Find some other way to get it. But this guy, he was just so persuasive. Offered too much for me to turn down. I mean, he was really good looking. Really fucking good looking. But, you know, this isn't what I do. I should be dancing, not whoring. And he hasn't shown up yet." Trowa didn't know what to say. "Uh…I'm sorry, I guess." The boy smirked, a jaded, angry smirk. "Don't be. It's not like I've got a home to go home to anyway. God, I need a drink." Trowa tilted his head to the side. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the boy was too young to be drinking, anyway. "I'll buy you one." The boy started. "No! I don't need your help." _

_There was a thunk of wood hitting wood, and Trowa glanced at the entrance. There was a nervous looking Asian man standing there, his eyes darting around the room. No one besides Trowa and the boy noticed him walk in. The boy walked unsurely towards their table, and looked over at Trowa. "Why are you here?" Trowa smirked. "Well, I was just about to buy this guy a drink, if you don't mind." The Chinese man's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?" He turned to the boy. "What is he talking about, Duo?" Duo shrugged. "I've got no idea, Wufei." The boy shrugged. Wufei raised an eyebrow. "I'd leave him alone, if I were you." Trowa stood up and raised his hands. "Sure. Whatever you say. Can't say that I think highly of you, somebody that'd pressure some poor kid who's simply down on his luck. Not a very honorable thing to do." He walked slowly back to the bandstand._

_"You take that back!" Wufei said, a little louder than he intended too. Only a few club-goers looked up, though. Most were used to that sort of behavior, and those that weren't would like to seem that way. "Why should I?" Trowa turned to face the other man. "What do you know of honor?" the Chinese man said. "More than you, apparently." The dark-eyed man assumed a fighting stance. "Are you ready to defend your words?" Trowa almost smiled. The other man didn't look like a challenge. He was shorter, for one thing. That gave Trowa the immediate advantage. "Sure." Trowa lunged, wanting to make the first move. And he found himself flipped promptly onto the floor. The breath wheezed out of his lungs and he saw the other man standing about him. "Like I said, you don't know anything about honor. You are weak." He glanced over at Duo, and Trowa could see his eyes visibly soften. "Are you ready to go?" Trowa used the opportunity to launch himself into the other man, and knocked him to the floor. Wufei kneed him in the chest and slammed Trowa into the floor. A soft groan escaped his lips. Wufei raised his fist and was about to punch him in the face when a voice rang out. "Wufei! Stop it!" He turned to look at Duo, who was standing. His eyes were wide and scared. "Please!" Wufei's dark eyes widened again, and he looked down at Trowa in disgust. "Fine." He stood up. "Are you ready to go, Duo?" Trowa stood up, and it seemed that he was going to try to over-power the Chinese man again. One piercing look from Duo stopped the thought. _

_"I…I don't think so, Wufei." Duo's large indigo eyes were pointed at the floor as he said this. "I don't feel right. It's like that honor you were talking about." Wufei's forehead crinkled in worry. "Are…you sure?" He looked so pathetic, Trowa thought. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. I'll see you around, man." Wufei took another sweeping glance around the small interior of the club, where more than just a few patrons were watching them, and left. Duo looked at Trowa, then the people who were beginning to resume dancing. He ran out into the street, but Trowa knew it wasn't after the Asian man. Trowa wasn't going to let him go. He ran after him. "Ya come back to play with us, ya hear!" called the clarinetist._

He saw the boy standing on the edge of the street, staring at the cars roll by. "Hey. I thought you said you didn't have any place to go." Duo glared at him. "I don't. And I don't have any money, thanks to you." Trowa shrugged; glad his smirk was hidden in the dark. "Well, you can stay at my place for a while, if you want. I do owe you." Duo shivered in the night air and pulled out a cigarette from and un-seen pocket. "I told you, I'm not interested in that." Trowa shrugged. "Well, I'm not interested in guys. So we're even." Duo's eyes looked hopeful. "Really? You'd let me stay without paying?" Trowa shrugged again. "Yah, I guess. For a while. Just till you get back on your feet. Find another club to dance at." Duo's jaded face broke into a wide grin. "Thank you so much!" He threw his arms around the taller boy. "Uh. Yah. You're welcome…"

_ _

***

End Part 4

AN- God, sorry this isn't quite what I want it to be, but I felt guilty for putting it off so long. _ Okay, sorry most of it was flashback, and regardless of what it looked like, this is NOT A DUO AS A PROSTITUTE FIC!!! Trowa doesn't want sex from Duo [though who wouldn't?]. Ya'll's reviews are what keep me going, you know? So please review. It'd be much much appreciated. I might even be able to churn out another chapter before I leave for camp…(On the 14th, a day after my b-day! Wish me luck!) Yeah. Please Review. I love you…^____^ Really. Review. *not kidding* *stalks* 

   [1]: http://www.livejournal.com/~chibi_lurrel/



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